


a different kind of "oh"

by peachthorns



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Accidental Voyeurism, Age Difference, Angst, Beth Lives, Beth and Daryl on the run, Blow Jobs, Canon Divergent, Childhood Trauma, Cunnilingus, Demisexuality, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Fantasizing, First Kiss, Flirting, Frustrated Daryl Dixon, Grief/Mourning, Hurt/Comfort, I Won't Say I'm In Love, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Internal Conflict, Masturbation, Older Man/Younger Woman, Oral Sex, Porn with Feelings, Post-Prison, Self Confidence Issues, Sexual Tension, Smut, beth takes charge, bethyl, but dawn and the hospital do not exist in this universe, but i am, lots of cussing, no condoms but they got this, not sure exactly how far i'm gonna take this, of if they do they don't find us, or is it feelings with porn?, some tiny Daryl flashbacks, the slow burn finally ignites, who is dawn? never heard of the bitch
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-23
Updated: 2020-04-13
Packaged: 2021-02-28 20:35:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,740
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23273302
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/peachthorns/pseuds/peachthorns
Summary: He just looks at her, and he thinks of a million different scenarios where this would maybe be okay. If he was younger. If she was older. If he was nicer. If she was rougher. But deep down he knows that if any of that was true, it wouldn’t matter, because they wouldn’t be Beth and Daryl.
Relationships: Daryl Dixon/Beth Greene
Comments: 39
Kudos: 139





	1. (you don't have to be) alone

**Author's Note:**

> re-do of alone: instead of a funeral home set as a trap, they find a dusty old hunting cabin.

He’s watchin’ her sleep, thankful they found this little hunter’s cabin to keep them out of the rain, and tryin’ to think that’s _all_ he’s thankful for. 

Not the smiles she’s been throwing his way more and more often, or the soft little touches that barely even make him flinch anymore. That just warm him all the way through. That maybe, at the end of the goddamn world, a Dixon finally found something good.

He can’t let himself think that way, and honestly he wouldn’t if she hadn’t started getting in his head and getting under his skin. 

_You’re a good man, Daryl Dixon._

Yeah, a good man wouldn’t be sitting here hard as a rock watchin’ her sleep. Wouldn’t have been in this situation more and more lately. The worst part is, he’s realized that here at the cabin, he can actually get a little privacy to do something about it. 

No, he just needs to be thankful that they found somewhere to rest, keep her pretty little head out of the rain, and let her ankle get better. That he caught a few squirrels today, so she ain’t hungry. That’s it. Not for the way she makes him shake from the inside out. 

Part of him feels like if he would just get it the fuck over with and jack off maybe things could all go back to normal. He hasn’t been able to since the prison, so maybe it’s not even her. Maybe the blue balls is just getting to him, that’s all.

Yeah, and maybe she’s not the most beautiful goddamn thing he’s ever seen. Maybe he don’t even like her like that. Sure.

And then she lets out this little sigh in her sleep that he thinks about hearing in a million different, less innocent scenarios, and that’s that. He knows the little cabin is secure, he’s checked it three times before he let himself sit down in the easy chair across from the old couch she’s restin’ on. Almost of their own accord, his feet lead him to ease out onto the front porch. He slides down with his back against the wall and sits his crossbow next to him. The rain hasn’t let up, but the porch is dry and the rain’s coolin’ the air a little. Maybe he can just breathe in the smell of rain and it’ll ease up and he won’t have to… 

He looks down at his lap and sighs. _Yeah, right._ He can see the outline of his whole cock in his pants leg, this motherfucker isn’t going away.

He looks around, and the woods are clear. The porch is roped off with their little makeshift alarm of stringed up cans. He glances back at the door one more time, and gingerly undoes his belt. Unbuttons his jeans and pulls out his dick with shame and anticipation warring through his body. 

He hisses at the first squeeze. It’s been so long since it’s been used for anything except utilitarian purposes. He thought he was broken, and then they burnt down the moonshine shack together. He’s been varying levels of hard ever since. 

And even though deep down he knows this ain’t gonna get her out of his system, because nothing will, he’s doing it anyway. He’s touchin’ himself to thoughts of her. And it feels too good to feel all that bad. The guilt just burns with the desire and coils low in his gut, and yeah he’s a piece of shit, but he just doesn’t fucking care right now. 

He’s never liked lookin’ at himself, but he can’t close his eyes in this world, so he’s staring out in to the woods and thinking of smaller, softer, lily white hands gripping his length, and a curtain of blonde hair, and that sweet little sigh.

And the door creaks open. “Daryl, do you –“

If he thought she had his heart pounding before, he didn’t know shit. 

“Goddamn, girl can you leave me alone for a fuckin’ minute?” he spits, shifting away from her to button his pants before shooting up to stand. 

“ _Oh_ ,” she says. She sounds shocked, and hurt, and something else. Something almost… curious. He risks a glance at her and her cheeks are as pink as his feel. “I’m sorry, I just…” she can’t meet his eyes. Great, now he’s finally fucked this all the way up. Like he’s been steadily trying to fuck it up this whole time they’ve been together, and she keeps pulling him back in. But there’s no coming back from this one, and he knows that. He feels a little sick. 

He just had to be a dirty ole asshole and take his dick out, and now he’s going to have to try to find some nice people to leave her with, because there’s no goddamn way she’s going to think he’s any kinda good man after this.

“What, Beth?” he croaks. He sounds old even to his own ears. “What did you want?” 

“I just wanted to see if you needed… help with anything,” she says softly.

He feels his ears get hot, and blood rush to his face (and elsewhere). Does she even _know_ how that sounds? “Nah, girl, I think I got it,” he mumbles.

And then she fuckin’ giggles. His hackles rise before he can stop them. “What is so goddamn funny, you never seen a man’s dick before?” he spits.

She gets this look on her face that he can’t even begin to understand. “No, I have… although I wouldn’t say he was a man. It’s just…” she bites her lip and gestures to his crotch.

And he looks down and there is the head of his dick, betraying him with how hard it still is, poking out of the top of his pants jutting toward his belly button, and still leakin’ precum. He’s lost so much weight that his jeans hang a little bit lower than they used to even on the tightest belt loop. He mutters a string of curses and starts yanking them up. If there was a herd come up right now, he’d be tempted to just walk right off into them and let that be it for him. 

If it weren’t for her, of course.

He starts to turn away to adjust himself, and she reaches out to grab his arm. She’s gentle as ever, but all their progress is undone. He flinches, curses, and swats her away. “Can’t you just leave me the fuck alone?”

She lets go immediately. “I’m sorry, I really didn’t know. But you don’t have to be embarrassed. It’s just me, Daryl.”

“Believe me, I know it’s you. Reckon I could get a charge for exposing myself to a minor, be on a fuckin’ list.”

Her shoulders straighten and he sees that fire in her eyes. He’s pissed her off. Good, maybe she’ll go back inside. 

“I’m definitely nineteen by now, thank you very much,” she says icily. “Maybe even twenty, who knows anymore. Do you really even see me that way still, after all this?”

He makes himself look at her, and he knows he fucked up in more ways than one. She looks worse than mad, she looks vulnerable. 

He groans and leans back against the wall, wishing he had a cigarette. “Nah, girl. I don’t.” _And ain’t that the damn problem._ He lets what he didn’t say sit between them until she gets it. 

“Oh,” she says again. “Well, do you then?”

He just looks at her wearily. “Do I what?” he grinds out.

“Do you need any help?” she bites her lip and holds eye contact.

His dick twitches, betraying him as usual. He can tell from how her gaze shoots to his crotch that its movement didn’t escape her notice. Nothing about him does, it seems. Sometimes he feels like she can read every thought that pops in his head like he’s writing them down in a damn diary too and handing it over to her.

He just looks at her, and he thinks of a million different scenarios where this would maybe be okay. If he was younger. If she was older. If he was nicer. If she was rougher. But deep down he knows that if any of that was true, it wouldn’t matter, because they wouldn’t be Beth and Daryl. 

He keeps looking at her, and her gaze melts like butter. She gets him. She knows without him saying it that he can’t say yes but doesn’t want to say no. She always gets him.

“You deserve to feel good, Daryl,” she whispers. “You don’t have to be in this alone anymore.”

He closes his eyes. Desire bubbles up in him again and mixes with self-hatred and disgust like a cesspool of his three core emotions since the prison fell.

She inches closer but doesn’t touch him this time. She’s approaching him like a spooked animal she’s trying to capture and take care of, but he doesn’t have it in him to mind. Maybe that’s all he is. 

And then she takes another step and winces, and he remembers her ankle. That core need he feels to take care of her, even before himself, takes over and he reaches for her to help support her weight. She wraps her arms all the way around him and leans in. 

“Y’ okay?” he asks. 

“Mhm,” she says, and it’s breathy, and it rumbles through him, and the desire is still there, coiled low and ready to strike back up. 

“You wanna go in?” he asks. He hates how his voice sounds, gruff and low of its own accord, like a bedroom voice. He can see her pupils dilate and his heart picks up speed. She’s really gonna be the death of him. “Not like that, damn it. Just to rest that ankle.”

“It _can_ be like that, if you want it to be.” 

“If you’re tryna kill me of a heart attack and have no one to take care of your scrawny ass, sure,” he replies, but there’s no bite this time. Not with his arm around her. 

She laughs, and it’s musical, and he aches deep down in a place reserved for her. “You’re not _that_ old, Daryl.” 

“Feel that old.” 

"It’s just part’a your charm.” 

He squints and pulls away to look down at her. “Are you tryna flirt with me, girl?” 

“I’ve been flirting with you for several weeks now, thanks for noticing,” she laughs. 

He rolls his eyes. “I ain’t good at this shit.” 

“You don’t have to be,” she whispers. “I like you the way you are. Come on, let’s go in." 

He grabs his crossbow on one arm and her on the other, and he helps her back into the cabin. After getting her settled on the couch, he turns back to make sure the door is secured (and avoid her gaze). 

He can’t avoid her forever. Back in his easy chair would be a rejection, and the couch with her would be another decision. He crouches on the floor in front of her to examine her ankle. He eases off her boot and massages her ankle with both hands, resting her little foot in his lap. 

Finally, he speaks. “You know why we can’t.” 

“I know why you _think_ we can’t,” she replies. “You think I’m too young.” 

“Ain’t just that.” 

“Then what? Why don’t you wanna be with me?” 

He swallows. There’s no going back from this conversation, and his stomach is churning. “Ain’t that either.” 

She sighs. “I wanna make you feel good, Daryl. You deserve it.” 

“Nah. I’m all you got, and I’m not gonna be that guy.” He chews his thumb and looks down at her foot. “You ain’t gotta suck my dick to pull your weight ‘round here, you do it just fine. I ain’t Merle. I ain’t…” his voice falls away as he feels the betrayal of his throat burning. Like she hasn’t seen him cry enough. He swallows hard and powers through. “I ain’t my dad.” 

Her eyes widen. “I don’t think that. That you think I owe you or somethin’. I just want to.” 

He can feel how red he’s getting again. This goddamn girl, man. Sittin’ here all blue eyes and innocence sayin’ she wants to touch his dick. His thirty-something year old, redneck dick, that to the best of his memory was last touched by a hooker paid for with drug money by good ole Merle. 

“Seen my dad with enough girls your age and younger. A lot of ‘em didn’t have no choice. I ain’t gonna be like that.” He tastes blood from where he’s biting at his thumb. He can’t look at her. 

“Well, I _do_ have a choice, and I choose you,” she says. Her eyes shine and they’re wider than the moon. She always has to look so earnest in a way that rips at his heartstrings. It figures that she can make eye contact and talk sweetly about sex in a way he never could. “It ain’t because we’re all that’s left either,” she says, her voice catching. She pauses to compose herself some. “I know we are. I’m not stupid. I wanna find them, but I know it’s just you and me now. But even if we did… or even if we found them and all kinds of nice new people, it’d still be you. It’s always been you for me, since y’all came to the farm.” 

He feels frozen. He wants to get up and slam the door and run into the woods, into the rain until he finds something to kill. He wants to get up and slam her into the back of the couch and press his body to her until it scares her. (Or until it doesn’t.) 

He can’t do anything at all. He’s still rubbing her goddamn foot. 

“Ever since you pulled up on that motorcycle, I’ve had a crush on you,” she smiles, and it’s a little watery, but his stomach drops anyway. “Me and Jimmy got in a fight about you.” 

That actually shocks a laugh out of him. “The fuck y’all fight about me for?” 

“He said I was checkin’ you out,” she giggles. 

“Well were you?” 

“Hell yeah,” she seems as shocked as he does by her language. “Those arms and those sleeveless shirts riding that motorcycle. Who wouldn’t?” 

“Most folks,” he says. 

She shakes her head. “That’s not true. Plenty of women at the prison checked you out, you just didn’t notice.” She brushes off his protests. “And then I got to know you, and you took care of everybody. And I saw how good you are underneath all that leather and scowlin’.” 

That makes him scowl, and she laughs again. 

“And I saw you with Judith,” her voice catches. “I saw you with Judith, and it was different. It wasn’t just a dumb crush. It felt real. It is real, whether you let yourself have it or not. Because that’s what this is about, isn’t it? Whether you’ll let yourself.” 

“You don’t even know what you’re askin’ for, girl.” 

“Yes, I do. Don’t act like I’m a little kid because you’re afraid.” She says it gently, but it still stings. 

He closes his eyes. He feels simultaneously like a fifteen year-old about to blow his load in his pants and a fifty year-old man who has been thoroughly fucked by the world, relentlessly and very hard, for five decades. Though the truth is somewhere in the middle, he’s closer to fifty than fifteen, and that does scare him. It scares him even more when he’s sitting here, massaging the arch of Beth Greene’s bare foot. 

“Come up here and sit with me,” she whispers. 

He freezes for a long time. His brain sounds like a radio that can’t reach a station clear. Mostly static, but snippets of men’s voices coming through. Little clips of his voice ( _you dirty old piece of shit redneck_ ) and Merle’s cheerful voice ( _looks like you’re finally gonna get some ass, little brother!_ ) and a deeper, humorless version of Merle’s voice that he can never bury deep enough to keep underground ( _you wrap your fingers in that long hair boy, so she can’t change her mind when she gets a taste of that Dixon cock in her throat_ ). And then somehow worst of all, a voice kinder than all the others. A voice that is soft and gentle that he misses so much saying _“take good care of my little girl,”_ and he’s going to fucking cry if he looks at her. 

She gingerly extracts her foot from what is now a tight, clammy grip and slides herself down to the floor next to him. 

“I don’t wanna pressure you. I just want you to know that I want you, and it’s okay to want me too,” she says. 

“But Hershel,” he chokes. He can’t get any more words out. 

Her eyes fill with tears and she takes his hand, stopping him from clawing at his cuticles. “Daddy loved you, Daryl.” 

His eyes squeeze closed and he shakes his head. 

“He did. He relied on you at the prison, even more than he did Rick really. He loved you like a son.” 

“Don’t,” he whispers. Daryl takes a heaving breath, and she lays her head on his shoulder. After a few minutes of silence except for their breathing, he takes her hand. 

“Ain’t no sense in sittin’ on the floor when we finally got somewhere comfortable for you to sleep,” he says finally. “Come on, girl.” 

He eases her up into his arms, careful to be mindful of her ankle, and lays her on the couch. She catches hold of his hand as he backs up, interlacing their fingers and tugging him gently toward her. He stands over her chewing his lip and calling himself all kinda names before he finally lays down with her. He knows he talks a big game, but when it comes down to it, he can’t tell her no. 

They’ve laid close together before on the forest floor many times, but it was never quite like this. Never in a cabin lit by the glow of a little candle and nothing but the sound of the rain hittin’ the roof and their soft breathing. 

She nestles into the small space between the back of the couch and his body, laying her head on his shoulder, and lets out a huge sigh. “You’re more comfortable than that armrest. I dunno who would have a couch with no throw pillows.” 

He gestures around the dilapidated shack and back at himself. “Some old redneck, I reckon.” He quirks an eyebrow at her and she realizes he’s making a joke about himself, but finally not in such a mean, self-deprecating way. 

She giggles a little harder than is necessary, and he tries not to smile. 

“You really wouldn’t have throw pillows on your couch?” she asks. 

“Not unless there was someone like you around to make me,” he says. “Never have before.” 

“So,” she pauses. “There was never someone like me?” 

“There ain’t no one like you in this world,” he says. Her lips part soundlessly, and his eyes fall to her mouth. He’s still half hard. 

“There’s no one like you either, Mr. Dixon,” she whispers in his ear. Goddamn it. Now he’s fully hard, and he’s picturing her calling him that with her naked ass in the air. Does she not know what that shit does to him? 

She licks her lips and glances at his crotch before he can try to adjust. Yeah, she definitely knows. She stretches a little and props her thigh across his legs and runs her fingers up his chest. He can hear how hard he’s breathin’ and it’s plumb embarrassing. Panting like a dog for her. 

“Can I – no, wait. Do you want me to kiss you?” she asks. 

“Shouldn’t want it,” he croaks. A part of his brain is still screaming _get up, you dumb fuck!_ But he’s powerless to her charms now that she’s gently rubbing his shoulders and her inner thigh is brushing the bottom of his balls. 

“But you do?” she asks. 

He swallows. There’s no point in lying to her. She knows. The evidence is right there in front of her. He nods. 

She kisses him. It’s hesitant and sweet. He thinks of when Merle used to take him joy riding in hotwired rides when he was a little thing, before Merle went to juvie and neither of them was old enough to drive. Up in the north Georgia mountains, there was this road with a steep ass hill near the trailer park. Merle would always floor it up that hill and the second they got over it, his stomach would drop and his lil ass would leave the seat. Of course they didn’t wear no seatbelts. It felt like he was flying. 

He thinks of that, for the first time in decades, because that’s how he feels again when he finally kisses Beth Greene. Like all the booze, all the shrooms, all the shit he tried with Merle was just a fake high leading up to this real one. 

It’s like a switch flips in him. He threads his fingers in that blonde hair and shifts to reach her better and then they’re really kissing. She’s just as worked up as he is. His whole life, he has thought kissing with tongue was just a really uncomfortable thing people do for a few minutes before they start to fuck, and everyone secretly hated it too. And now he finally _gets it_. It’s not slimy with Beth. It’s wanting to be in every crevice of her body with every part of his. 

She touches his cheek, and he doesn’t flinch. He presses into her hand and sighs. All those brushes against each other and tentative hand holding for weeks now, and now they’re finally touching for real. He never wants stop. She fists his shirt and pulls him closer, and he angles himself so they’re both lying on their sides. She presses herself against him and rocks experimentally. His hands fly to her hips, but not to stop her. He groans and rocks into her again, chasing the fire that’s already building even though they just started this. He lowers his mouth to her neck and sucks at it. She throws her leg over him to line them up and moans with him. They kiss and rock for a few minutes, and he thinks there’s no way he can take much more of this without embarrassing himself. 

Then she palms his dick over his pants, and he sees stars. He reaches out a hand to still her. 

“Sorry,” she says immediately. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have gotten carried away.” 

“Girl, you ain’t gotta apologize. I’m just not gonna last if you keep doin’ that.” 

He sees understanding flash in her eyes. “Well, we don’t have condoms, so I was just gonna take care of you,” she says. 

He shakes his head. 

“Daryl, it’s not because I think I owe you or anything stupid like that. I just really want to, and I’ve been wanting to before tonight.” 

He shakes his head again. His head is swimming, but he finds the words. “Nah, ain’t that. Not unless you let me eat your pussy too.” 

The look on her face makes him actually laugh out loud in a huff of air that gusts her baby hairs back, they’re so close together. She looks like he just whispered that to her in church or something. 

There’s a pause, and then she surprises him yet again. 

“Okay,” she says, and starts undoing his belt. 

He raises his hips to help her slide down his jeans a little, and his dick springs free. If only he could be that disinhibited. Her eyes are wide, and he can’t read her expression. He’s trying not to think about whether she’s seen a lot of dicks before. He’s also trying to decide whether it’s worse to think that he’s the first dick she’s touched or if she has a bunch to compare his to. 

Then her smooth hand slides around him, and all coherent thought slides out the window. She squeezes experimentally and starts out slow. At first he thinks she doesn’t know what she’s doing, but then he sees how she’s watchin’ his gaze and tryin’ to see what he likes. 

“You done this before or somethin’?” he grunts. 

She blushes. “Maybe." 

Somehow that makes him feel less guilty about the way her tiny fist doesn’t even go up halfway his dick. He closes his eyes and lets himself give in to the pleasure. She lays her head on his stomach to get more room to jerk him. Or so he thought. His eyes jerk open and sure enough, she’s licking the precum off the head of his cock. 

“Fuck, Beth,” he groans. “You ain’t gotta put it in your mouth if ya don’t-“ 

She takes him in her mouth before he can finish his sentence. 

To think he used to be completely silent during sex. It would make him laugh, if he could make any other noise than an incoherent moan. She shifts herself up onto her knees so she can take more of him. He grabs her hair with the intention of keepin’ it out of her face for her, but he ends up tugging it a little. She makes an appreciative noise in the back of her throat that he feels, and he’s already close. She starts using her hand to jack off the base that her mouth can’t reach, and the other hand is massaging his balls. He’s been deep throated by some girl his brother heard was famous for her talents in exchange for some of Merle’s ice, and it was not one-tenth as good as Beth’s sloppy mouth working in tandem with her small hand. 

“Goddamn,” he groans. “Feels so good, baby girl.” 

She makes eye contact with her mouth full, and he knots his fingers in her hair. 

“Shit, Beth. I’m gonna cum,” he warns her. “I’m gonna-“ 

She keeps the eye contact, and she keeps going. The hand on his balls moves to massage his taint. He cums harder than he’s ever cum in his life. He moans her name louder than is probably wise in their current environment. His fucking soul leaves his body, and he sees stars. She _is_ the stars. She is the whole fucking universe. 

When she stops and just looks at him, all he can think of how beautiful she is with her hair coming down, her face all flushed, and her lips pink and a little swollen. 

He feels loose and boneless. He smiles at her with more teeth than he’s used in a smile in a long ass time. Maybe ever. 

She scrunches up her nose. 

“You okay?” he asks. “Did I hold your hair too rough?” 

She shakes her head and makes an irritated noise with her mouth closed, pointing at her cheeks. 

He realizes what she’s doing and laughs. “Just spit it on the floor, we’re leavin’ this place anyway.” 

She leans over the side of the couch and spits a few times while he rubs her back and keeps laughin’. When she leans back forward, she smiles sheepishly at him. “I was gonna try to swallow, but it was more than I was expecting.” 

“Sorry. It’s been a while, I guess.” 

“It’s okay,” she says. “It’s worth it to see you laugh like this." 

He tickles her rib cage, and she shrieks. She pretends to try to get away, and he pulls her closer. Then they’re kissing again. 

He can taste himself on her. Maybe he’s just too relaxed to give a fuck right now, but it doesn’t even make him feel like shit. 

He flips her over. “Your turn, Greene,” he whispers in her ear. 


	2. (finally) still

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Beth gets hers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright y'all, get your Satisfier Pro 2 and a glass of Moscato, because it's about to go down. 🔥 I wasn't even going to bother revisiting this for months, but it got more attention than I ever dreamed of, so here I am.
> 
> I really tried to write this about half as short without all the feelings, but that's just not who I am. This came out instead.
> 
> This little universe also has their game of "never-have-I-ever" that happened before all this having gone down slightly differently, as you'll see. I'm just gonna post this while I'm still tipsy so I can't talk myself out of it. Excuse any errors.

He pushes her back onto the armrest of the couch. She winces a little at the crick it puts in her neck, and he frowns. He rocks back onto his knees to reach behind him and grab his pack, digging through it until he finds his extra flannel to ball up and tuck behind her head. She doesn’t thank him, because she knows if she even tries to praise him as much as she wants to right now, it’s gonna freak him out, but he really can be so sweet sometimes. When it matters.

He then seems to realize that his pants are still unbuttoned, and he flushes. It’s hard to tell, because he’s so tan and his face is usually dirty, but she’s spent enough time watching him (for longer than these past few weeks, if she’s being honest) to see it. He hastily tugs his pants up and buttons them. Because _of course_ Daryl Dixon doesn’t wear underwear. 

“You didn’t have to do that,” she protests, putting a hand on his hip and letting her fingers slide under the waistband of his jeans some, scratching at his hipbone.

He scowls. “Yeah, I did. We don’t got no condoms. If your pants are coming off, my junk needs to be put away so I don’t get no ideas in my head.” He lifts a corner of his mouth and his eyes glint, and she realizes he’s joking again. She laughs, probably harder than the jokes warrants, but he’s finally teasing her. She’s watched him be shut off from everyone for years, rarely smiling, sticking to himself. And now during these weeks alone with each other, while excruciating at first, she's flung herself at his walls repeatedly. They didn’t crumble, and they probably never will. They were built too high and too well, and for good reason. But she thinks she’s finally managed to climb over them. 

Then he places his rough hands under each of her thighs and jerks her forward so that she’s rocked back on her ass and her legs are in the air on either side of him. And she could swear he’s still smirking. All thoughts of their emotional connection fly out of her head, and all she can think about now is what’s about to happen. It’s been so long for her, and getting head is probably one of her favorite things in the world. She may not be able to have freshly baked chocolate chip cookies warm from the oven anymore, but she can still have this. And something tells her with Daryl it’s going to be better than it’s ever been, because he hasn’t even touched her actual skin yet and her whole body is tingling. 

He reaches to undo her jeans, sliding her belt out of the loops. “What do you look so damn excited for, Greene?” he teases. 

She can feel herself flushing, but she already felt flushed to begin with, so who knows if he can tell. “You know what,” she whispers. 

His ears turn red as he pulls her jeans up and off her legs in one fluid motion. Daryl has always been the picture of contradictions to her; gentle and rough, snarky and sweet. It only figures that he would blush as he manages to rid her of her pants faster and less awkwardly than anyone ever has before. (Okay, so it was only Jimmy and Zach. She’s not _that_ experienced.)

“Didn’t think good Christian girls did this kinda shit,” he says as his fingers brush the waistband of her sad, faded panties that have been washed in one too many creeks to have any illusion of sex appeal.

She giggles. “Are you kidding me? This is how Baptists do everything. As long as you don’t have P-in-V before marriage, you’re still a virgin.”

“Pee envy? Sounds like some kinky shit. The fuck is that?” he asks. 

She laughs again. “No, Daryl. P- _in_ -V. Like the penis going in the vagina.”

His eyebrows crease in confusion, and she prays he isn’t about to ask her if she’s had a penis inside her, because she hasn’t, and she knows hearing that is going to scare him away. And if he gets scared away before she gets to cum, she is going to absolutely scream.

But to her relief, his brain seems to be stuck on something else for the moment. “So do gay folks just die virgins then?” he asks.

She never realized he was actually funny for months of knowing him, but she would see Carol laughing when it was just the two of them and ache to know what they were saying. 

“I never thought about that,” she replies. “I guess… but they go to hell anyway, according to the Bible. I don’t really believe that though,” she hastily adds. “I think God loves all his children.” 

“Except the Dixon children,” he says. She wants so desperately to reassure him that that isn’t true, not at all, but she knows that if his whole childhood – hell, his whole life – he didn’t feel God or anyone else loving him, that’ll just feel untrue. The last thing she wants to do is be invalidating.

So she takes his hand in her own, pleased at the way his fingers fold automatically into hers, and says the very next thing that pops into her head.

“I do, though.”

His hand twitches and his head snaps up to look at her. She can feel his whole body going stiff. Every inch of her body is absolutely certain that he’s about to leave this cabin, sit on the porch again scowling all night, and leave her aching for him. 

_Goddamn it, Beth._

“I mean,” she stutters. “I just want you to know I care about you. That’s all. You don’t have to acknowledge it. Let’s just move on, actually. I’m sorry.”

He keeps staring at her, unmoving. His eyes are locked on hers, and he has the look of pure focus he gets when he’s hunting, mixed with the look he always had staring at Judith, mixed with something else that she’s never seen on his face before. He swallows, and his Adam’s apple bobs. 

But he’s not running out the door. He’s never even held eye contact with her this long. 

Rambling of her own accord, she continues to talk. “When we played never-have-I-ever, after I said I’d never been in love before. You said you never fucked anyone you cared about.” He winces like she slapped him, and she presses on. “You said that you didn’t believe in any of that.”

That makes him break eye contact, and even as her heart sinks in disappointment, she isn’t sorry. She can’t do things halfway; she never has been able to. She loves with every piece of her, and she can't hide it. As horny as she is right now, after everything they’ve just done, and knowing she hasn’t gotten off since the prison’s blessed detachable shower heads, she would still rather him know how she feels about him than be able to get off too. He deserves to know.

He isn’t climbing off of her. He isn’t letting go of her hand, either.

He glances up at her through his bangs and whispers something she can’t understand. 

“Huh?” she asks. 

“Maybe I believe it now,” he mumbles.

“What changed your mind?” she asks, even as her brain is screaming at her to shut up and take her small victory.

He looks up again at her, and his stare takes her breath away. It’s full of longing, and vulnerability, and a fair amount of fear, and what she thinks might be love. He doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t have to say anything.

“Oh,” she whispers. 

He glances back down again. She reaches for the hem of her shirt and leans forward to start pulling it up, which presses them closer together.

His hands go to her shoulder and the back of her head automatically. “What are you doing?” he asks.

“Trying to take my shirt off for you,” she says, contorting her elbows as she struggles at the weird angle to wiggle it off without elbowing him in the face.

He barks out a laugh, and he sounds surprised. But his big hands go to help her, and he slides it over her head. Her hands go to her back to unclasp her bra. 

“You don’t gotta do that,” he says.

She unclasps her bra anyway. His eyes are like saucers. She can feel insecurity bubbling up, but she pushes it back down. She’s positive that he’s seen breasts bigger and better than hers, but this is what she’s working with. So be it. 

His eyes are darting from her breasts to her eyes, back and forth, like he feels like he shouldn’t look, but he really wants to. She leans back, reaches for his hands, and places them over her tits. His eyes shudder closed as his fingers flex and cup her. He rubs his thumbs over her nipples, and even as she feels them pebble, as chill bumps ghost over her body, he looks like he is the one who is being touched. She wishes she could get his shirt off too, but she knows better than to push her luck today. She’s heard stories. She’s seen him do manual labor in 102 degree heat and 98% humidity with a shirt on when every other man has taken theirs off. She knows it isn’t happening. 

“Kiss me,” she whispers. His eyes open, and his pupils are huge. He leans forward, and they’re kissing again. She wraps her legs around him, and their tongues tangle. It’s like nothing else she’s ever experienced. _Get me some moonshine_ , she thinks. _I’m about to need to have that drink after all._

He kisses from her lips to her neck, up to her ear, back down to the hollow above her collarbones. He licks his way down to where the swell of her breast starts, and he stops. She shivers. He doesn’t move, and he doesn’t say anything. She knows somehow that he’s waiting for permission. She puts her hand on his head, fingers curling in his dirty, too-long hair. “Please,” she whispers again. And this time he shivers, and he flattens his tongue and continues down until he takes her nipple in his mouth. She feels it buzz pleasantly through her body. His other hand reaches up to grasp her other breast, and covers it completely. She tries to tell herself it’s just because his hands are enormous that it's engulfed so completely. 

He spends so long going back and forth to each breast, cupping them, sucking them, and oh-so-gently scraping them with his teeth that she’s beginning to get impatient. She jerks her hips up a little and tightens her hand in his hair.

Bless him, he gets the message and continues downward. His hand ghosts its way leisurely down her stomach, and it feels like her belly erupts in a million butterflies. She twitches so hard he glances up, concerned. 

She smiles weakly. “It’s okay,” she says. He nods and ducks his head back down. His bangs brush her stomach. Every nerve in her body is electric as he finally makes his way down to where he’s going, and his tongue finally pushes tentatively through her folds. Her body jerks, and he looks up at her to check that she still wants this. She runs her hands through his hair reassuringly, and then he pushes her thighs further apart to make room to fit his shoulders between her legs and get comfortable. She feels his fingers spread her apart some, and he inhales with the level of satisfaction she’s only heard from him previously when he’s finally found a pack of cigarettes after going weeks without, and his hands are shaking as he lights one up. He tightens his hands around her thighs and groans. All worries of how she must not smell the freshest fly out of her head, because he pushes further into her and his nose bumps her clit. She jolts. 

His eyes shoot up to look at her again, but this time he looks mischievous. “Oh, you like that, huh?” he asks. She nods fervently and digs her nails into his scalp. He keeps looking up at her and moves his lips until they’re just ghosting above her clitoris. “You like that, sweetheart?” he asks again, his breath ghosting over her pussy. She moans and puts her other hand in his hair too, pushing him down. He gives in and lets her guide him down, sliding his tongue up and around her clit. Her body jerks up toward him like he pulled an invisible string connected to her pelvis. Her mouth falls open, and she lets out the start of a moan that he catches by reaching up his other hand to let her bite down on his fingers without missing a beat. 

She’s been eaten out a few times before, and it always started out a little awkward and fumbling, and she had to wait until they found their rhythm and it started feeling good. Zach was a little better than Jimmy at it, but _this_... This is unlike anything she’s ever felt before. She immediately feels like her soul is floating above them, like this is too much for her to stay in her body and just take it. Her thighs are already trembling. She’s drooling around his fingers, but she doesn’t even have the self-awareness to feel embarrassed. Her other hand has moved to the back of his neck, where she is dimly aware that she’s clawing at him and tugging his long hair in her fists. He shows no signs of minding. His face is buried in her pussy, and he’s lapping at her clit with the tip of his tongue at a pace that is making her dizzy. Her vision is starting to go out. Her whole body is humming. She can't feel her hands and feet. “Daryl, I can’t—“ she says. “Oh, God, I’m gonna—,” and he licks his way down and plunges his tongue into her opening. As much as she wants him back on her clit, her body gushes in response. She can’t tell what is her wetness and what is his saliva. He tilts his head back and rubs his beard in it, smearing her juices across his chin, his nose bumping her clit again. No man has ever enjoyed her body like this. She feels like a work of art. He makes her feel so beautiful. He slowly sticks a finger inside her and returns his mouth to her clit. She yelps. 

“Gotta be quiet, baby,” he mumbles around her pussy. She nods frantically, wanting to be good for him so he won’t stop. 

He flicks his tongue from side to side, and her spine stiffens. She jerks again. “Oh, God. Oh my God. Daryl, fuck. Fuck. Oh my God, I’m gonna—“

She feels the ghost of his smile against her, and he speeds up, licking her in sloppy tight circles. He adds another finger, finger-fucking her in tandem with his tongue at her throbbing clit. 

Her head is swimming, and she can’t stop shaking. She’s never felt this much pleasure in her life. It’s almost too much to let him keep going. She’s about to push him off of her, when suddenly a wave of bliss hits her full force. She starts screaming, and he claps a hand over her mouth and keeps going. She pushes his head down into her pussy as hard as she can, and claps her thighs around him like earmuffs. He’s moaning into her as he keeps eating her out, and she is fucking floating over them, over the cabin, over the woods. Nothing can touch her. She is beyond her earthly body. She feels invincible. She's soaring.

She doesn’t even know what she says around his hand clasped to her mouth, but she knows she calls him a lot of pet names that he would hate if he could hear them and says a lot of cuss words that she’s never said out loud before.

She's never felt this kind of elation. Her orgasm lasts longer than she’s ever lasted before. He laps at her for almost a full minute while she hovers at that peak, vibrating, electric, every muscle in her body stretched taut as she pulses underneath him.

Finally, it crashes and it’s suddenly too much. She tries to tug his head away, but he uses his shoulders to keep her legs apart and keeps going. And it’s so much that she’s desperate to get him off of her, because surely her body can’t take this, until suddenly she’s coming again, rippling around his fingers and coming undone. Where her first orgasm was rough, and long, this one is just as intense, but slower, and sweeter. 

He doesn’t stop until she’s sobbing. 

He looks up, beard glistening with her cum, eyes shining. She’s so sensitive down there that when her legs come back closed, the friction almost makes her cum a third time. 

“Come here,” she says, reaching for him. “Come hold me.”

He complies, crawling up the couch and wrapping his arms around her, pulling her into his chest. She kisses him, and his chin and mouth are absolutely soaked, and it should be gross, but somehow it isn’t. She presses their sweaty foreheads together and sighs. Her body spasms again in an aftershock, and he laughs and pulls her closer. 

She settles into his arms, feeling his cock, now hard again, against her bare thigh through his jeans. She’s still buzzing, and it’s better than the moonshine. She’s never felt this way in her entire life. She feels powerful and peaceful at the same time. Ever since the farm fell, her brain has been constantly running through worse case scenarios, but everything is finally still. 

“Daryl,” she whispers. 

“Hm?” he grunts. 

“I just wanted you to know that I have. Just now.”

She doesn’t even mean to say it, and she doesn’t know if he even knows what she’s talking about, that she’s talking about being in love, about having sex with someone you love, but he immediately squeezes her tighter.

“Me too,” he whispers, pressing a kiss into her hair. 

His arms feel like home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please let me know what you think if you read this! Like I said, this story is my first time even attempting to write kissing, much less smut. Am I even doing this right? 🤣I've also never written Beth's POV before. (And no, I don't buy all those pure, virgin Mary versions of her, either. I was a "virgin" teenager in rural Georgia once upon a time, too.)
> 
> I've also been wanting to use that line Daryl says to Judith in a different context since I first heard it all those years ago. Yes, I'm a hoe.
> 
> This is dedicated to the Baptist young man I dated my senior year of high school.

**Author's Note:**

> BABY'S FIRST SMUT!!! y'all i have NEVER WRITTEN SMUT BEFORE! all the comments and feedback are welcome. help me grow. (if you made it this far)
> 
> i was going to make this a oneshot, but it took on a life of its own, and i realized it would be 10,000 words if i kept it all in one chapter. do not fret. pussy eating to come. not sure if this will go further than a part 2 yet though. at this time, i was just thinking a second chapter where beth gets hers.


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